72 Hour Game
by d e E B a K A
Summary: Quatre. Hostage. Milliardo. Meeting. Rooftop. Get it? Chap. 3
1. Message: 13

**Disclaimer: No. No. No. And no. I don't own Gundam WIng! Or any other anime for that matter. Not even one cel..**sob**   ;_;**

**72 Hour Game**

After deactivating the surveillance camera in the rest room, he leaped down and stuffed a costume into the cupboard under the sinks and hid it carefully with the items stored in it, throwing the unneeded items into the other cupboards. Quatre washed his hands, wiped them and activated the camera again, after making sure everything looked fine and innocent of course, and proceeded to the elevator.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Quatre waited for the escalator, decorated simple with mirrors on black granite, to reach the sixth floor. A4 amber coloured envelope in his slender fingers, the man headed towards the office third from the front, left hand side, according to the instructions given to him by his new financial advisor, Mr Van Bronswick, glanced the frosted window embedded on the jet door, the straightforward black letters reading Rhett Van Bronswick confirming the correct room. Quatre tapped lightly on the door, which opened in reply for him.

"Good morning, Mr Winner," greeted a smiling brown-haired man.

"Good morning," Quatre replied with a lop-sided grin that contrasted the professional aura his navy suit gave him.

"Well, if you have all your documents, this shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes," the advisor informed his latest client, his palm stretched in anticipation of the envelope in Quatre's hands, with which the blonde did fulfil. The businessman pulled the yielding seal and tipped the contents out. 

A comic book.

Rhett laughed an obvious false laugh, before turning grim again, "Out."

The client looked down at the teal carpet and laughed. "I'm terribly sorry, but I believe my previous advisor was far better than you," Quatre said happily with a lop-sided grin, leaping in a cat like fashion onto the beech table, whipping out a rope from his pocket and binding the hands of a rather shocked Van Bronswick.

"Stay here, don't move, and if you do…" the captor threatened, pulling a 9mm gun from his right pocket. Quatre strode casually to the door of the room, replaced the shades that hung from his shirt's neck to his finely chiselled face, pointed the gun directly ahead moving from side to side, saying in his cool voice, "Everyone, it's break time."

The employees screamed, running through the corridor like a stampede.

Quatre looked over his shoulder, and grinned at Rhett, "That's a good boy. Stay still and don't even try to move."

Hiding the gun in his right pocket once again, Quatre proceeded to move a nearby double metal drawer under an air vent climbing onto the drawer with ease, he put on a pair of gloves from the pocket inside his blazer and drew with them a small penknife which he used to unscrew the air vent's cover.

**oOops. I'll fix that sentence up, I forgot the comma after the 'I guess,' coz no, Sergeant Smith isn't the Mr Trent, I meant Milliardo's superior.**


	2. First Roll the Dice Highest Number Start...

**Disclaimer: No. No. No. And no. I don't own Gundam WIng! Or any other anime for that matter. Not even one cel..**sob**   ;_;**

**72 Hour Game**

Quatre stood, waiting for the escalator, decorated simple with mirrors on black granite, to reach the sixth floor. A4 amber coloured envelope in his slender fingers, the man headed towards the office third from the front, left hand side, according to the instructions given to him by his new financial advisor, Mr Van Bronswick, glanced the frosted window embedded on the jet door, the straightforward black letters reading Rhett Van Bronswick confirming the correct room. Quatre tapped lightly on the door, which opened in reply for him.

"Good morning, Mr Winner," greeted a smiling brown-haired man.

"Good morning," Quatre replied with a lop-sided grin that contrasted the professional aura his navy suit gave him.

"Well, if you have all your documents, this shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes," the advisor informed his latest client, his palm stretched in anticipation of the envelope in Quatre's hands, with which the blonde did fulfil. The businessman pulled the yielding seal and tipped the contents out. 

A comic book.

Rhett laughed an obvious false laugh, before turning grim again, "Out."

The client looked down at the teal carpet and laughed. "I'm terribly sorry, but I believe my previous advisor was far better than you," Quatre said happily with a lop-sided grin, leaping in a cat like fashion onto the beech table, whipping out a rope from his pocket and binding the hands of a rather shocked Van Bronswick.

"Stay here, don't move, and if you do…" the captor threatened, pulling a 9mm gun from his right pocket. Quatre strode casually to the door of the room, replaced the shades that hung from his shirt's neck to his finely chiselled face, pointed the gun directly ahead moving from side to side, saying in his cool voice, "Everyone, it's break time."

The employees screamed, running through the corridor like a stampede.

Quatre looked over his shoulder, and grinned at Rhett, "That's a good boy. Stay still and don't even try to move."

Hiding the gun in his right pocket once again, Quatre proceeded to move a nearby double metal drawer under an air vent climbing onto the drawer with ease, he put on a pair of gloves from the pocket inside his blazer and drew with them a small penknife which he used to unscrew the air vent's cover.

**oOops**. I'll fix that sentence up, I forgot the comma after the 'I guess,' coz no, Sergeant Smith isn't the Mr Trent, he/I meant Milliardo's superior.****


	3. One to Zero

**Disclaimer: Ditto from last chappie.**

**One to Zero**

"God, it's a tight fit, stupid small air-vents, you're supposed to make big and big and fat so that evil people like me can plant their big, evil, seedlings..Grr. Damn it, stop rambling you fool. [smacks face] Great, now you sound like Gandalf. Oh well, he's cool anyway…" Quatre rambled mindlessly to no one in particular, apparently annoyed at the tightness of the air-vent, but not sure whether it was because the air-vent was small, or he was just getting fat. [a/n: Ok, random stuff but I just had to make Quatre talk to himself for some reason =] ]  

"I nimbly, yes, I know I sound cocky, it's just that I am, [smirk], connect all the billion wires that I just had to place, I grab a small pen-shaped object to the very end of the long cord..and then..." the Arabian half patiently joined the tail of the cable to the object, "Voilá! One really long rope thingumabob  attached to another thingamabob." Looking down through a vent opening, Quatre chuckled at the employees screaming their way out of the building, and laughed harder at how they contrasted to the others. Some chatting as if there was no tomorrow, others bugging the receptionists to call the police. _Shit, the police, _Quatre thought, his smile erased abruptly from his face as he realised he had to get out before they trapped him. Twisting his way through the maze, his sharp ears caught a bit of a conversation, "…shame his a bad guy, he's sexily cute…" A tinge of red painted his face, and looked down, to see who would've made such a comment, to find it was a bloody attractive woman of reddish-brown hair.  Quatre slapped himself to remind him of the situation.

"Idiot," he muttered.

Quatre sighed in relief, when landed lightly on the metal drawer, and replaced the air-vent so professionally it didn't look as if it had been touched, with another lop-sided grin to Rhett he pushed the drawer back to its original arrangement. Then, walked casually to Rhett and asked with a smile, "Good boy. Now, please unlock the safe," Quatre's pocket knife cut the advisor's bonds, before continuing, "And I'll guarantee that you and I will be very happy men." 

Rhett punched the code and the safe swung open, revealing several jewels, and a hell of a lot of money, Quatre grabbed a bunch of the neatly bundled bills and closed the door. Rhett muttered to floor about something or other, and looked surprised when Quatre stuffed his breast pockets with the money, before dragging him to the door. 

Suddenly a Chinese-backgrounded negotiator popped in to block them and said with a smile, "I'm a negotiator, I'm not carrying any ar-"

The holder of the hostage pushed his shades up the crook of his finely shaped nose and waved the man with his gun, "I don't like your voice, go get another negotiator."

This stunned the negotiator, but did not stop him, "Plea-"

"Now," Quatre brushed pass him to the elevator. Pushing, the button only to hear the fading voice of the dismissed man smugly call, "The elevator is shut down just to say…"

Quatre grumbled, before commanding coolly to Rhett, "Rooftop by the stairs, please."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Millardo walked through the corridor, "Why didn't you call me first?"

"Because you're so stubborn and you have to let the newbies try to," Smith countered, trying to keep to his inferior's stride, "Now, all you do-"

"Yes, yes, I know. Now just stop following me and let me do my job," Milliardo muttered as he walked off to the nearby elevator, and asked the junior officer, "Alright shove please I need-"

"Um, I'm sorry Mr Peacecraft, but the elevator has been shut down and I have str-" the officer saluted, and stopped when he realised that Millliardo had grabbed the elevator keys and entered the it. The ex-soldier pushed the rooftop button and waited, prior to that, he frowned and arched an eyebrow before nudging the bewildered officer standing outside, "Move it! You're standing within the laser range."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The crouching man moved from behind the hostage to look at the arriving man. "Ah, Mr Peacecraft, I've been waiting for you for…" Quatre glanced at his watch, "…around 27 minutes. Oh, and don't bother with that unarmed shit, it pisses me off."

Milliardo raised his chin and squinted across the nearby buildings, "Sorry, the traffic was bad…and it looks like you know your stuff, so I won't bother, but go straight to the question."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I can't see him,, Sir, the think he's hiding behind the pole," the sniper radioed over to Sergeant Smith.

"Alright. Sniper 2? 3?" Smith asked.

"Nope. Sorry, sir," the second sniper replied, along with the third sniper.

The sergeant cursed under his breath, "Shit, this smartarse who knows what he's doing."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Straight to the question? Alright, I'll answer that question for you-" Quatre stood and said as he straightened his suit.

"But I haven't asked it yet," Milliardo commented, tilting his head.

"Oh, pardon me then, but I know the question you are to ask. And by the way, it's rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking," Quatre nodded with a smile.

"You are correct, I'm sorry for being…_rude…_Mr…?" Milliardo pardoned himself, trailing off the topic a bit.

"Quatre. Just call me Qautre, and you are forgiven. Anyway, back to where we were," Qautre said with yet another smile.

"Yes…" Milliardo hid his hands in his pockets, "Back to where we were."

"Most people want cash, a car, a helicopter, a plane…"  the teen paused and twirled his gun, "Even to just see their wife and family again…but not me. I want…"

"You want…?" the negotiator asked when he trailed off. Milliardo was rather surprised at this, after all, what else could an average teen want? Then a mental voice cried, 'That's the thing u dimwit, he _ain't _normal!"

"How can I out it…I want to play a game," Quatre replied without a single mocking tone, in fact, it seemed he was rather serious about it despite the fact that he smiled genuinely.

"A game?" Milliardo frowned again, he realised that this person was being all too serious, "Why would you want-"

"That, is none of your business Mr Peacecraft," Quatre replied.

"And how the hell do you know my name?!" Milliardo asked, trying desperately to keep his cool.

"I do my research. But first, let me give you info. The game lasts for three days, 72 hours, starting tomorrow at midnight sharp. All you have to do, is chase me. If you catch me, you get to take me to the police station, but if you don't…well, my prize is for me to know and for you to find out…if you feel inclined to."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Has he moved over yet?" the Sergeant asked over the radio to the snipers, as he led a small squad to the rooftop, and sighed heavily when he found out the man hadn't.

BANG.

Eyes wide in shock, he asked, "What's happening? Did he shoot?"

"He has shot the hostage. I repeat, the man has shot his hostage," a sniper replied while the sergeant burst the door open pointing the gun to the shooter from behind his inferior.

Qautre smiled at the new 'guests' and lifted a small rectangular prism he had installed the other day, "Look around you."

Those on the rooftop did as he said and found that they were surrounded in a net of small rectangular bombs that covered the entire rooftop.

"And this," Qautre said, raising his the prism in his hand, "Is the pressure starter. So, if I drop this…kaboom goes the bombs."

"It's fake. Drop it, go. I dare you," Milliardo countered confidently in his calm tone.

"How do you know it's a fake, huh? We could die and-" Smith panicked.

"Would you trust me for once? It's bad enough you came up here. Drop it!" Milliardo sighed through gritted teeth.

"No! Don't!" the sergeant shouted, the beads of sweat slowly tracing his facial features, but Quatre laughed in amusement.

"You know, you're a police officer, a sergeant, so be braver would you? No wait, correction, be brave!" Milliardo advised angrily. Plop. The man turned to face where Qautre was to find he had escaped through the shaft.

"Well don't just stand there! Check the blueprint to find where the shafts lead to!" Miiliardo cried in frustration when he threw his hands up in the air before running down the stairs.

Smith grunted, "Do as he says,"  and threw at Milliardo's back a dirty look. _Have to call Trieze to get him out. Ticking me off, _he thought when he realised that Milliardo was correct. The officer, curious, picked up the closest 'bomb' to him, turned it over to see if the carton was painted and found, written in black, on a finished juice carton:

Haha. One to zero, my way! =P

Smith sucked in a breath and walked off in quiet humiliation. _Why does he always have to be right?_

**A/N: Alright, third chapter done. _Finally! I couldn't be bothered to change a space between the speeches coz it made too long. Oh yeah..and I updated the second chapter. You need to read that first before the fourth chappie, or else it'll just be really random , and thinking, 'When did Quatre put that there?' and all._**

**I just wrote a Lord of the Rings fic [Legolas x Eowyn] and found that some of the LOTR reviewers are pretty damn strict about Tolkien's works, I mean it's fanfiction! I was just using the people and the world, I don't have to use every bit of the story, which I am currently going through for the 4th time since I got it, thank you very much! =/**

**Ack, oh well, I guess people just don't like my alternate pairings. =(**

**Well, just move that pointy thing to the 'Go' button and complete the form that pops up! =P**

**Laters,**

**- dee.**


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